


Ni a Sabios Ni a Ricos

by paradisecity



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-07
Updated: 2005-11-07
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradisecity/pseuds/paradisecity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate reflects on her work and what it means to do her job in Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ni a Sabios Ni a Ricos

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the SGA Flashfic debriefing challenge. The title is taken from one my favorite hymns, and the lyric it's taken from roughly translates as one's work being more important than one's money or weapons.

**V62.4**  
Her job is not easy; it never has been. There is a reason why psychiatry is the profession with the highest incidence of suicide.  
  
Practicing within the military framework has always been most difficult of all. Though she fully understands why it must be so, being shunned and demeaned by the very people who need and benefit from her services most never gets any less frustrating. She knows what they say about her when she hears their whispers, knows what they think about her when they avert their eyes. She is good at many things, not least of which is being the kind of the shrink the military appreciates, but that doesn't mean any of it comes easily.  
  
It does, however, come more easily to her than most others. That is one of the myriad reasons she was chosen for this expedition, why she was given a uniform and an office and a seat at the very bottom of the hierarchy. She finds that fitting, in a way: if Atlas shrugged, the world would roll off his shoulders. Forgiving herself the self-importance inherent in the comparison, she, by turn, is always steady.  
  
She is also always alone. Even with professional ethics, legal confidentiality, and military regs aside, she knows others still would not warm to her because of who she is, because of what she knows. Even though the women of the expedition began to coalesce around each other early on in an effort to meet their needs for social contact and support, she has always been kept just outside their reach. She understands why and, for their comfort, prefers it that way. But being the only one of her kind on the expedition robs her of her any support on which she may have been able to rely.  
  
She also knows that is another reason why she was chosen instead of the many others who were better qualified and more experienced: she is strong, she is self-sufficient, and if she is alone and lonely and isolated and exhibiting symptoms of the dirty words in psychiatry, the one thing she will make absolutely certain of is that her work doesn't suffer for it. This time, there is no artifice of self-importance when she says the fate of a galaxy sometimes rests on the work done in her office.  
  
With that in mind, she takes a deep breath and watches the sun rise over the water.  
  
  
 **292.89, 296.41, 300.00, 300.19, 307.42, 301.50, 301.81, V61.9, V65.2**  
Rodney is the one she finds most difficult. He is also, in yet another show of McKayan contrariness, the one she finds most successful and that, admittedly, through no fault of her own. There are days he comes in and rants, days he comes in and does his best not to cry, days he comes in and talks, and days he comes in and works. Those are always her favorite.  
  
Translated from Rodney to English, he works in her office because it is quiet and peaceful and no one will bother him. That is, at least, what he says. What he doesn't say is that she simply sits with him, content to require nothing more from him than his mere presence and for a man as brilliant as he it is a welcome change. That he enjoys the view of the pier and gets far less work done than he would in his own office for staring out at the water moving—in what he once explained to her as the same basic wave function even quantum particles exhibit—goes unmentioned, even when he starts guiltily at having been caught doing nothing more than searching for a moment of peace.  
  
Carl Rogers would be proud.  
  
  
 **V62.2**  
John is the one she worries most about. He was not and is not qualified for the position he now holds and though he's done a damn good job of it, she can always see him wondering if someone else could have done better, could have done more. That he continues to function and to do so well in the face of the cognitive dissonance he's integrated into his Atlantean schema continues to amaze her though that, she suspects, is the defining quality of Lt. Colonel John Sheppard: if pushed, he'll do what he's been threatening to do all along and exceed your expectations.  
  
The only expectations he can't meet, much less exceed, however, are those he sets for himself.  
  
There are days he talks about what's not important as though it is, days he talks about what's important as though it isn't, and days he talks simply to reassure himself that they are all, against all probable odds, still alive, still in Atlantis, and still having the best fucking time you can have with your clothes on. Those days are her favorite because John takes such unadulterated pleasure in simply living that she finds it a quiet kind of awe-inspiring.  
  
Viktor Frankl would be proud.  
  
  
 **309.81**  
Radek is the one she enjoys most. The first time he came to her, he'd said, "I will talk and you will listen, yes? That is what you are here to do?", she'd nodded, and he'd said, "Good. You need not understand," and spoke for the better part of an hour of his life, his family, and all he'd loved, lost, and, as he'd said, simply misplaced. The varied terrain of his native language washed over her and when he was through, though it was a violation of a very intimate sort, she didn't have the heart to tell him she'd understood every word. A mastery of diverse languages was, logically enough, a requirement for her position.  
  
The fourth time he saw her he'd said, "Děkuji," she'd said, "Prosím," and he knew. He smiled and came back the next week in English. Occasionally, he comes in Czech and those days are her favorites.  
  
Derald Wing Sue would be proud.  
  
  
 **V71.09**  
The sun setting is even more beautiful than the sun rising and if she could truly understand the implications inherent in that, she thinks she'd have a moment of pure self-actualization. As it is, however, it is all she can do to stand before the beauty and be grateful for the opportunity to experience it.  
  
It has been a long day and tomorrow will be more of the same. But everyone is here, everyone is alive, and for now, everyone is safe. The people who left through her doorway were better than when they entered and even if she is nothing more than a placebo, she can take comfort in a job well done.  
  
The last rays of sun sink into the ocean and she feels at peace.  
  
  
 _ DSM-IV codes_  
 _V62.4: Acculturation Problem_  
 _292.89: Caffeine-Induced Anxiety Disorder_  
 _296.41: Bipolar I Disorder, Most Recent Episode Manic, Mild_  
 _300.00: Anxiety Disorder NOS_  
 _300.19: Factitious Disorder NOS_  
 _307.42: Insomnia Related to..._  
 _301.50: Histrionic Personality Disorder_  
 _301.81: Narcissistic Personality Disorder_  
 _V61.9: Relational Disorder Related to a Mental Disorder or General Medical Condition_  
 _V65.2: Malingering_  
 _V62.2: Occupational Problem_  
 _309.81: Posttraumatic Stress Disorder_  
 _V71.09: No Diagnosis on Axis I or II_

**Author's Note:**

> The diagnostic codes used here aren't meant to be an accurate and/or exhaustive picture of these characters' various psychological diagnoses, though the codes did spark some very interesting discussion in the comments of this fic's original post. Rather, the codes were intended solely as a narrative device to add more detail to Heightmeyer's inner world.


End file.
